You are enough

Some people shine in loud, obvious ways, but you? Your light is quiet, steady—like the glow of the moon in a dark sky. It doesn’t demand attention, yet it draws people in. You don’t have to be the loudest in the room to be noticed; there’s something about you that lingers, something thoughtful, something deep. The way you think, the way you exist—it matters.

I know life isn’t always easy. I know some days feel impossibly heavy. But even in those moments, I hope you remember this: you are never as alone as you think. Even if the words aren’t spoken, even if the comfort is silent, there is always someone out there who cares. Someone who notices the little things about you, who admires you from afar, hoping you’re okay.

You don’t think you stand out, but trust me, you do. The way you carry yourself, the way your presence lingers—it’s like you belong in a timeless portrait, a fleeting moment frozen in perfection. It’s almost unfair, really.

I won’t pretend to understand everything you carry, but I wish I could lighten the load, even if just a little. The world can be overwhelming, the noise too much, but somewhere in all that chaos, there’s a quiet voice cheering you on.

Maybe you can’t hear it yet, but it’s there.

March 11, 2025

Hi Carl! ≽^•⩊•^≼♡

So… I made this little space just to talk to you, even if I have to stay hidden for now (hehe). But I guess it’s safe to say it here—You're my happy crush.

Every time you appear on my feed, there’s this quiet warmth that fills me, like a spark I wasn’t expecting. Out of nowhere, I find myself smiling, just because you exist.
Your cute yet handsome features? Completely unfair. You have this Natural way of standing out without even trying, and honestly?

Automatic heart react on all your posts, no questions asked.

And there it is—My confession,
just out in the open now. HAHAHA 🙈

But… I still don’t have the courage to come up to you (yet 😭).

So for now, I’ll say all these things here, in this space where my thoughts can unfold without hesitation,

and my heart can speak without needing a reply, only the hope that these words will mean something to you.. Whatever dreams you’re chasing,

I truly hope they come true. Someone as effortlessly charming and remarkable as you deserves all the love and happiness in the world. 💖

You're so breathtaking, it almost feels unfair—like beauty itself lingered in you just a little longer than everyone else.

If I could, I’d tell you every single chance I got, in every way possible, just how stunning you are.

But since I can’t exactly slide into your DMs

(cue romantic theme song to make this sound less dramatic)

I’ll settle for saying it here.

Your eyes? I could get lost in them for hours. And sure, I know a lot of people probably feel the same way, but for me, it’s not just admiration from afar—I’d genuinely love to get to know you,

even just a little. You seem like the kind of person who makes life more interesting, more colorful. And yes, I’m the same person who keeps gushing about your eyes and how ridiculously pretty you are, but hear me out—I swear

this isn’t just about shooting my shot...(Okay, maybe a little? 😳).

But honestly, you’re just… cool. You’re socially aware, you have great taste in movies, you’re passionate about Reading books, and you carry this deep connection to things.

I think we could have those deep, soul-searching conversations—not debates, just a space to understand how we both see the world.

So really… what’s not to admire?

These words are like a pressed flower—left between pages, waiting for you to turn to them someday.

Always cheering for you,
(Still hiding… but always here)

March 15, 2025

The thing is, reality warps when you're near—
the world bends, colors shift, and suddenly, the air feels too thick to breathe. Like the universe is pressing in, making space for you, pulling me toward something I can’t name.

In my head, love is something soft, something quiet, something that fits neatly into my hands without spilling over the edges. But outside, in the real world, I feel like a stranger to it. Too small to hold it, too scared to claim it. As if love is something I was never meant to touch, only witness from a distance.

Maybe I want a love bigger than myself, one that doesn’t flicker in and out like a dying ember, but devours— something vast and consuming, something that makes me feel real. Maybe I crave the kind of presence that makes the emptiness inside me feel less like a burden, and more like a beginning.

I tell myself I am enough. I whisper it like a prayer, like a spell meant to tether me to the ground. I tell myself I do not need to be seen to exist. That I can live in the spaces between, unseen and untouched, and still be whole.

And yet—
I find myself wishing for someone to sit beside me in the dark. Someone who sees the walls I’ve built, and does not turn away. Someone who does not flinch when they hear the things I dare not say out loud. Someone who stays long enough to untangle my monsters, to press their hands against the ruins of me, and remind me that even wreckage can be rebuilt.

I do not know if you will ever read this. I do not know if you would understand. I do not know if, in the quiet spaces between these words, you can feel the shape of what I am trying to say without saying it.

But if you do—Know that I am here. Watching, waiting, existing. Holding onto the weight of this silence, hoping that maybe, just maybe, it is enough to reach you

March 21, 2025

I don’t think I’ve ever told you this, but I admire the way you feel. Not just the way you exist, not just the way you move through the world— but the way you allow yourself to feel it all, deeply, unapologetically.

There’s a kind of strength in that, the kind that most people don’t recognize. The world teaches us that strength is unyielding, that it is hardness, that it is the ability to endure without bending.
But I don’t believe that.

I think real strength is softness that refuses to close itself off. It’s letting yourself care, even when it would be easier not to. It’s wearing your heart on your sleeve, even when you know the world might not be gentle with it.

My mother is the strongest person I know. She was built for resilience—towering, unshakable, a division one linebacker, the kind of presence that fills a room before she even speaks. And yet, she is also the most sensitive, the most openly emotional person I have ever met. He never hides the way she feels, never pretends that love doesn’t reach her, never turns away from the weight of it all.

You remind me of that kind of strength. The kind that allows itself to be seen, even when it could hide. The kind that embraces emotion, instead of running from it. The kind that makes me feel safe in a way I never expected to.

Around you, I don’t feel like I have to keep my guard up. I don’t feel like I have to measure my words, or my silence. There is something in the way you exist that makes the world feel softer, like it’s okay to let go of the weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying.

I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this way around anyone before. But I do know that when I see you, I feel safe. And maybe that is the rarest, most beautiful thing of all.

March 24, 2025

I’ve been meaning to tell you something—something that’s lingered gently in my thoughts for a while now. It’s about your eyes.

There’s something quietly captivating about them.Not just their color or shape—though they are beautiful in their own right—but the way they carry you. But I don’t believe that.

They hold stories, soft and strong all at once.
When you’re happy, really happy, they light up like the world’s finally caught its breath.And in quieter moments, they hold a kind of depth that makes me want to understand everything you’ve ever felt. Your eyes don’t just see; they feel.

They reflect your thoughtfulness, your empathy, and that strength I keep admiring from afar. Even when you say little, they speak volumes—of all the resilience, vulnerability, and gentleness you carry.There’s something about how your gaze lingers, how it softens when you’re listening, how it sharpens when you care.

I think it’s beautiful— the way your eyes mirror your soul. The kind that allows itself to be seen, even when it could hide.

And maybe I just wanted you to know that someone sees it. That I see you. In all your complexity, in all your quiet strength.There’s comfort in your presence, Carl.

A kind of safety I rarely feel around others.You don’t have to say anything back—I just hope you carry this with you, on heavy days and soft ones too.

You matter.And the world is softer because you’re in it.

March 26, 2025

I don’t really know how to say this — or even where to begin —
but maybe that’s how all the softest things start: with a pause, with silence, with a heart full of things that ache to be said.

So let me begin here: I know — I know — nothing could ever bloom between us. Not in the way stories do, not in the way dreams pretend.

This letter may never reach you. You may never read it, may never know who wrote it, and maybe… that’s okay. Still, I write.

We’ve never really known each other — a year and a half at most — and even then, you were more of a distant light than a part of my world.

But somehow… you became something to me.

Whether it’s infatuation, or something heavier — maybe even love — I honestly don’t know. But what I do know is this:
You are kind. You are beautiful. You are someone I deeply admire.

You are rare — in a quiet, soul-deep kind of way.And you are precious to me, even if only in silence.

I don’t think I could ever bear to see you hurt. If I did, I’d come undone. I’d lose myself in the grief of it.

The only time I ever saw you in person — really saw you — was in school. Tuesday, September 19, 2023.
Six days before my birthday.

And in some strange, beautiful way, that fleeting glimpse felt like a gift.Even if it was only a second.Even if you didn’t see me at all.I smiled the entire day.

Like something in the universe whispered,“Here. This is for you.”

But that was the first — and the last — time.And maybe… the only time.

I left school in June 2024.Money got tight. Life pulled me away. And maybe, in doing so, it pulled me from you too.

So now, I carry that one day with me like a pressed flower — fragile, perfect, untouchable.

You don’t feel real. You never have.When I saw you, it was like stepping into some ethereal dream.

I still wonder if I imagined it. Like I slipped into a daydream where everything I wanted lived — even if only for a moment.Sometimes I convince myself that maybe… just maybe…

It really happened.Maybe I really saw you.Maybe you were real.

But the truth is: when I look at you — even now, just in memory — I'm at a loss for words. I lose my thoughts. I just feel.

And all I can say is this:If somehow, somewhere, you ever feel that soft pull in your chest — that unexplainable warmth without a source — Maybe that’s me.Maybe that’s this letter. Maybe that’s how I love you — quietly, hopelessly, beautifully — from afar.

March 28, 2025

If I was ever given the quiet miracle of truly knowing you — not just the fleeting presence of your name or the way you drift across my thoughts — but the real you, the hidden you, the you that laughs when no one's watching…
I think I could spend the rest of my life just writing about you.

With every breath, every heartbeat, pen in hand, I’d try to paint the constellation of your soul — and yet, I'd still fall short. There is too much goodness in you. Too much light. Too much quiet kindness that even language trembles in trying to carry.

And perhaps — perhaps a part of me understands, deep down, that we were never meant to stay.
That we were like constellations: only ever meant to pass by each other for a single glance across a night sky. Maybe we’ve served our purpose. Maybe that’s all there ever was to it.

But some nights — oh, some nights — I wonder if we were more. If our souls, even in their silence, have touched. That maybe, even now, we’re still echoing in each other. You, tinted by the faintest wash of my favourite colour, and me — marked gently by yours.

And I dream — foolishly, tenderly — that you're walking with a purple on your heart. A soft hue. So quiet, no one else would notice. But maybe it glows a little, on some days. Maybe it waits for me.
For a future where we meet again under different skies, as softer versions of ourselves.

I don't know. I just…
I hope today was kind to you. And that tomorrow feels a little lighter. I hope you rest tonight, without heaviness. And I hope you remember, somehow, even if you’ll never see this —You are deeply, gently loved.

Sleep well. Be soft with yourself. Take care.
P.S. I think about you. All the time. And if it means anything, even just to the stars —

March 31, 2025

I just want to talk to you — not with small words tossed between strangers, but with the kind of conversation that lingers like perfume on fingertips. I want to know the way your silence sounds. I want to hear the echoes of your thoughts in stillness. There’s a universe behind your eyes, and I ache to step inside it.

To know who you are, truly, is something that sits quietly at the center of my chest. Not the version you share with the world, but the tender, unguarded Carl — the one who dreams alone, the one who sighs into pillows at midnight and hums tunes to himself in the kitchen.

You are a thrilling novel, and I, a willing reader, clinging to every chapter, every subtle shift in your tone, every glance that doesn’t ask to be understood, but deserves to be.

Every time I’m near you, it feels like I’m turning a page — and your story continues to unravel in ways I didn’t know I needed. You never rush to reveal yourself, but what you do show is golden, quietly stitched in silver thread.

Every line draws me closer. Every habit, every laugh, every delicate detail — they pull me in. Like a melody hummed in a dream, you stay with me long after the moment passes.

I want to know the dreams you hold close, even the ones that tremble in the light. The ones you don’t say aloud — I want to hear them, hold them like something sacred, and whisper that they deserve to bloom.

If I ever get the chance, I will love you in all the ways you never knew you needed. In the silences, in the chaos, with patience, reverence, and unwavering softness.

Because my feelings are unfiltered, unforced, and true. They don’t come with strings or conditions — only quiet hopes and the softest offerings of care. I don’t want to change you. I want to see you, exactly as you are.

I’ve always felt this soft distance between us. Not cold, but cautious — like standing before a door that might open, might not. Still, I wait, not to be let in forcefully, but for the moment you feel ready.

And so I write this, knowing I might just be writing into the void. Maybe you’ll never read it. Maybe this longing will live in these unsent pages forever. But even so, you are worth writing for.

If I could ask for just one glimpse — one clear look into what you’re thinking — I’d cradle it like something fragile, something precious.

Because above all, Carl,
I see you. Even in the space between us. Even in your quiet. Even when you don’t see yourself.

With everything I know how to give,
always, me

April 2, 2025

My sweet Carl, It feels impossible to articulate this in any way other than as fate’s serendipity, as if our meeting was a beautiful, unintentional twist of destiny. I’ve met you by mistake, or perhaps it’s that the universe had long planned this encounter for us, and it took its time to lead us here. The first time I ever laid eyes on you, something deep inside stirred — I just knew that you would play a monumental role in my life. There was nothing tangible to prove that gut feeling, only the quiet certainty that whispered through me.

From that day, my heart began to grow fonder of yours, little by little, with each passing day. Every single day, it felt as though I discovered more reasons to love you, even if I never dared to say it aloud. I kept this love, wrapped in silence, kept it in the corners of my heart where only the echoes of my feelings could breathe.

But there’s always been something I never said — something that’s remained locked away, perhaps because of everything that has happened between us. I was never able to tell you how I really felt. I’ve kept my words hidden, a secret I never dared to share, fearing they would get lost in the spaces between us. The world around us didn’t understand — every single person said I should stay away from you, warned me that you were no good for me. Yet, despite all of that, despite all of their doubts and their judgments, I’ve loved you for the simple beauty of who you are.

I love you for every single atom you’re made of. Your essence, your being — all of it, deeply and irrevocably. You are a part of me now, in a way that goes beyond words. You are forever with me , woven into the very fabric of my soul, as I am with you. A piece of your heart will always be held by me, and in the quietest parts of me, a piece of mine will always belong to you.

And yet, despite this love, there are shadows that linger. The pain, the distrust, the miscommunication — they cloud what should be the purest of connections. These obstacles, they make the love feel heavy, as though no matter how much I love, it can never be enough to overcome the silence that stands between us. I wish I could talk to you about it, I wish we could finally find a way to fix the broken pieces. There’s so much I wish, so much that I just know will never happen, and that uncertainty stirs something within me — a longing that cuts through everything else.

More than anything, my deepest sorrow is the thought of seeing you hurt. I’d hate to see you in pain or unhappy. The idea of it is a weight on my heart that I can’t release, a burden I carry silently. Even though I’ve never had the privilege of meeting you face to face, Carl, I feel like you are one of the sweetest humans I’ve ever encountered. A soul that, despite the struggles and the barriers, deserves all the love and happiness this world has to offer. You are worthy of it all, and my heart aches with the desire for you to have it.

No matter how much time slips by, and no matter where life’s unpredictable roads may take us, know that you are never far from my thoughts. If there ever comes a moment when you think you need me, I will be there. Even if time and distance keep us apart, I will always be right there, ready to offer whatever support I can give, whenever you need it.

But for now, I know that we must take separate paths. It might take some time for me to come to terms with it, but for now, we need to go our separate ways. Life’s timing is cruel sometimes, and we must follow where it leads, even when it pulls us apart. But even in this separation, I know that no distance could ever truly separate our hearts. The love we share will remain in the quiet spaces, always waiting to return when the time is right.

Until then, You are always loved. And if ever you feel lost, if ever you wonder where I am, remember that I’ll be thinking of you, wishing you all the peace and joy you deserve.

April 4, 2025

Even now, the mere thought of you wraps itself around my heart, tender and unyielding. In the stillness of my mind, I can see you — your angular eyes, full of depth, your sharp smile, a beacon that drew me in with its light. It's like a lure, a sweet magnetic force, and from the very moment I encountered it, I was ensnared, swept away in a tide I couldn't resist. Every glance, every glance of your face, I savor like a beautiful memory pressed between the pages of a book I cannot put down.

I love every detail of you. Every curve, every line, every reflection of your essence — they stay with me, clinging to the edges of my mind. I find myself reconstructing your face piece by piece, feature by feature, over and over again in my thoughts. It is an active remembering. A devotion I nurture every day. A muscle of the heart that must be exercised or it would grow weak, and without practice, the memory will atrophy. I hold onto you like this — forever etched in my mind, even if it’s impossible to keep you here in the way I wish.

Even with this effort, time loves to take. It steals the essence of moments and weaves them into the fabric of our past, leaving only fragments. And yet, you love getting lost in the turning wheel of time. Someday, it’ll be impossible to remember everything — too hazy to recall, the outlines blurred and softened by years. But segments of your being will be impossible to forget — parts of you will be carved into my soul, untouched by time’s ravaging passage.

Even as the passing years devour your slightest fragments, no amount of minutes could ever render you unrecognizable to me. I would know you anywhere, even in the quietest spaces. My soul would know yours anywhere, and it will always seek you, always try to relocate you in every place, in every space.

And when I feel you near — in those fleeting, sacred moments where our worlds brush together in the wind, in the scent of the air before a storm, in the deep blue of the sea, in the silence of the snow, my soul sings. In those fleeting moments, I let the world echo you. Because you are everywhere — woven into the very threads of existence.

I do not fight this. It is a fact of being. You are embedded into the cellular levels of everything. A truth whispered in poetry, in nature, in everything that exists in the quiet, delicate hum of the universe. My soul sings your name in the spaces between every heartbeat, every breath. I let it resound in all that I do, because everything turns into you, and I welcome it — I crave you here beside me always.

I will think of you long after my body has decayed. Long after my pulse ceases to echo. But this love, this longing, will not die so easily. It will remain, stretching into eternity, as wide as the sky, as deep as the ocean. It will transfer into every creature, too big to die such an easy, simple death. When the flowers yearn for Spring, when the buds begin to bloom, it will be this desire that pushes them forth. The same desire that pulses within me, that calls out to you in the night. The way I feel about you will be felt on every corner of the earth. It will spread to every star in the sky, every breath of wind, every movement in nature.

As big as Jupiter, as bright as an angler fish's luminescence in the inky dark of the sea, the feeling will grow and spread, an uncontainable force that will reach across the cosmos, farther than I could ever touch. I’m thankful to feel it — to feel you, even when we are apart.

Though we are two souls, each on a path where the other cannot follow, if you tilt your ears to the heavens, you’ll hear me. You’ll hear me in the song of the cardinals as they sing their morning hymn, in the gentle hush between the clouds, in the spaces between your breaths. I will be there — in the reverberation of your heart, in every step you take. It beats for you. And I will carry that rhythm in my heart for as long as I live.

Know this, always: You are loved. You are never alone.

April 6, 2025

My heart beats only for you, you may not feel it but The rhythm of my existence has become entwined with yours in ways I never imagined possible. It speaks to you in a language of love, a dialect I’ve only recently discovered. Before you, I never thought I would need it, but then you appeared, and everything changed.

You came into my life like a storm — twisted and haunted, like an abandoned mansion, abrasive yet gentle all at once. You were a paradox, a beautiful contradiction. I never thought I’d fall for someone so complex, yet every layer of you drew me in. And with the intensity of that first glance, your eyes pierced through my armor — with what I can only describe as the Great sword of love. It was so unexpected, so sudden, that it caught me completely off guard, leaving me no defense.

Now, my heart bleeds only for you. Can’t you see it? The blood of my emotions stains the deepest parts of me — the parts I’ve tried so hard to bury, over and over again, under layers of dirt and distance. Yet, here you are, stirring everything I once hid. It triggers something within me — like a loaded gun, ready to fire. The power of your presence forces these emotions to the surface, forcing me to confront a side of myself I didn’t know existed.

Is this the love people always talk about, or is this something entirely different, something I never imagined? It feels so alien, so new, that at times, I wonder if I’m even capable of understanding it. Yet, it’s undeniable. It’s an even more alienating sensation, yet to be discovered.

But if there were an emotion — a word, a sensation — for feeling infinite, for feeling complete, I wouldn’t be here, in this confusion. Because this is exactly how you make me feel. Whole. There are no more fragments of me scattered across the floor; with you, I feel united in a way I never knew was possible.

this love, whatever it is, has filled the gaps in me. And as much as I’ve tried to run from it, as much as I’ve resisted, it is here now, and it is undeniable. I am whole because of you.

April 8, 2025

If you feel as if your life is not going the way that YOU want it to go, I want you to know, it’s going to be okay. That’s just how life is. There are moments when things feel entirely out of your control, but remember — there are other moments where you hold complete control over your path. Life will throw you curveballs, and sometimes, you will feel like you’re out of sync with everything around you. But in those moments, just pause, breathe, and remember — things may be out of your hands for a reason. Everything in your life is for a reason. Always keep that in mind.

Sometimes, when everything seems to be aligning, life throws you something unexpected. But when that happens, take it as a sign. A warning, perhaps. A new direction, even. Trust that these moments, as difficult as they seem, are guiding you toward something greater than you could have planned.

If you feel as if you will never find love — remember, there is someone out there for you. You just haven’t crossed paths with them yet. It’s okay to lose faith in love sometimes. It’s okay to feel like you’re destined to be alone, because, truthfully, everyone feels that way at some point. You’re not alone in that. Love is complicated, it can be scary, but when it’s right, it is one of the most beautiful things in this world.

It’s okay to be scared of falling in love, especially when past experiences have left their scars. But know this: it’s okay to take your time. Take care of yourself. Surround yourself with people you can trust, people who value you and hold you with the care you deserve. Take care of yourself. It’s okay to be alone. In fact, it’s necessary. Everyone, at some point in their life, experiences being alone. Sure, it can be lonely, and yes, sometimes it feels scary, but take a moment to think of it this way: being alone is time for you — time to heal, to grow, to discover yourself in ways you never could before.

If you ever feel like going back to an ex-lover, I want you to know — it’s okay. There are so many people who share this feeling. You are not the only one. Sometimes, the heart wants what it wants, and it’s okay to cry, to think about the relationship, and to wonder what went wrong. It’s okay to cry over them. It’s okay not to have moved on yet. Healing takes time, and yes, it’s exhausting, but every step forward is progress.

If you feel the need to reach out, but you’re scared, that’s okay too. It’s okay to write about them, to process your emotions in the way that feels right for you. It’s okay to still love them — even if you’ve parted ways.

Always remember, there is so much waiting for you in your life — even if you don’t have it all figured out right now. You are on your own journey, and the beauty of it is that you don’t need to have all the answers today.

And if nobody has said it to you lately — I love you. I hope you feel the depth of that message and hold it close to your heart.

April 10, 2025

You are truly indescribable. I search tirelessly for the words that might do justice to what I feel for you, but each attempt falls short. Nothing seems to fully capture you,
but I will try.

I never thought it possible to feel this obsessed with someone, not in the way I feel about you. In the past, I've liked other people, yes, but none of them compare to you. It stuns me — it truly does — that you don't have an army of admirers fighting for your affection. You're near perfect. People may overlook you, but to me, it feels as though I can’t look away. I am fascinated by everything you do, every little movement.

When you look at me, it’s as though I’ve taken a hit of something intoxicating. I can’t think straight, and my words stumble out in a disoriented mess. But I would give anything — anything — just to have you look at me the same way I look at you.

To me, you are a perfect blend of summer and fall. You have the warmth, the brightness, the fun, and wild spirit of summer. But you also possess the serenity, grace, and beauty of fall, when the leaves turn to orange and the air grows crisp.

I wish I could hold on to you forever. But just like the seasons, people come and go. Today, you left, and with your absence, it feels like winter. The world around me is growing cold, and darkness is settling in. I ache for the warmth of your presence again.

I know I missed my chance with you, and that you are with someone else now. But still, I find myself craving your presence, in every moment. I don’t even know how you truly felt about me — but I like to believe that, at some point, you felt at least a little bit the same way I do.

You’ve left an indelible mark on me, one that I can’t erase no matter how much time passes. And though the seasons change, and though I may never again feel your warmth, I will always carry you with me.
You will always be a part of me — like the perfect balance of summer and fall.

April 12, 2025

Love is what I am made of. Made for. I want to buy you trinkets you don’t need, button up your shirts with slow, quiet care, always buy coffee for two. Ask you to tell me more, and always mean it.

I want to watch the sunrise above the sea with your arms around my waist, release sky lanterns, show you every constellation I know, brag to you, brag about you.

I want to light up your heavy days, and live long enough to make you coffee every morning.

You’re bone marrow — you are what keeps me standing. You’re the way I carry myself, the way I measure the world. You are the silence between my thoughts and my voice.

I know growth is uncomfortable, that we’ve never been here before — but everything I feel with you, I feel deeply and without remorse.

April 14, 2025

Carl,
Sometimes, I still think about the first time I saw you - how effortlessly, how completely, you caught me off guard. It’s a memory that visits me like a quiet ghost, a scene on loop, a soft rerun I don’t dare fast-forward.

I try not to linger in the ache of it. Not to dream beyond the edges of that moment. Because some stories aren’t meant to be rewritten, and I’ll never make sense of what never had time to become.

But if I could write a book — a love story about the boy I could never have, the final line would read: It was written in the script of fate that I am but a minor character in your happy ever after.

Still, I would play my part again. Every time.

April 16, 2025

I don’t really know where to begin.
Maybe that’s the thing about thoughts left unsaid for too long — they get tangled in the heart. But let me try anyway.

It would've been good for me to have had someone like you to hang around with. I think about that a lot. How different everything might've been… if you had been there for my quiet days, the rainy mornings, the little moments that needed softness. Your kind of presence.

I probably would have learned a lot from someone like you. Not in the obvious ways, but in the ways that matter — how you laugh at the world, how your eyes carry a patience I never quite knew. You would've taught me things I didn’t even know I needed to learn. Like how to be still. How to be open. How to just… feel.

Sometimes I wonder why I had to be so stubborn and closed-off. Why I always kept people at arm’s length — even the ones who made me feel safe. Especially you.

I don't know where that comes from. But it’s there. In me. A quiet defense. One that kept the world out... and you too.

I like you so, so much that I’m avoiding you. What a terrible, tender contradiction that is. To crave your company and yet flee from it. To look for your name in every room, only to pretend I don’t see you. It’s not fair, I know.

Merely seeing you, seeing your smile, seeing your effortless, indescribable beauty brings me complete, inexplicable joy — You light up everything. And when you smile… I feel something tighten in my chest. Like I’ve missed something all my life, and suddenly, there it is — in you.

But it also hurts because it will never be more than this. This unspoken something that lives in silence. A gentle ache with no destination.

I have to protect my battered heart. Because it’s been cracked open before. And though you’re not the one who broke it, you are the one I fear could shatter it completely.

I wish I could come home to you every day. Not just in the physical sense. But in the way people come home to warmth, to understanding, to a soft place to rest. That’s what you feel like. Home. But I guess some homes are just meant to be dreamed of.

Maybe in another lifetime, I won’t be so scared.
Maybe there, I’ll meet you with open arms instead of trembling hands. And maybe… just maybe, we’ll get it right.

April 18, 2025

There are moments when life just drifts by — faces blur into one another, and we barely blink.

In life, we cross paths with all sorts of people all the time – People come and go. Some linger, most don’t. They might make us laugh, impress us, or even stay in our lives for years…
…but we still mostly move along without any second thoughts. Without any spark. They’re just background noise, familiar yet forgettable. And that’s okay. That’s normal.

But then something different happens. Something strange. And then sometimes we run across someone, even fleetingly… Someone whose presence makes the air feel a little heavier, or maybe lighter, depending on how your heart holds it.

…who, apparently for no reason other than some weird, paradoxical quirk of the heart… That’s you. I don’t know why. I don’t know how. But your name lingers in places where no one else’s does.

And even if the thought is totally ridiculous, triggers something somewhere, and makes us wonder about it all. That’s the thing. I don’t even know what I’m wondering about. Just that when you crossed paths with me, I felt it.

Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it’s one-sided. Maybe I’ll never know. But…

For some reason I cannot fathom, and being very mindful that for a million reasons it all very much makes no sense at all, You still show up in the quiet of my days. In the pause before I fall asleep. In the songs that feel like secrets.

You are one of these rare people. The kind I don’t forget. The kind who doesn’t blur.

I guess I just needed to say that. Even if it never makes it to you, Even if it never means anything to you — It means something to me.

April 20, 2025

Last night, I wrote everything out. Every tangled thought, every confusing sign, every raw and aching feeling I’ve held onto. I sat with myself, quietly, honestly—and maybe for the first time in a long while, I saw things clearly. Every detail, every perceived sign, every feeling. I let it all spill out of me like ink. And it hurt. It still does.

But I have to be honest with myself now, and with the version of you I’ve carried in my mind. I don’t love you. I have limerence. That’s the hardest sentence I’ve ever had to write. Because it feels like love. It burns like it. It consumes like it. But… it’s not. Not the real kind. Not the kind that grows in the open air of truth and reality.

I am not obsessed with you. I am having obsessive thoughts. You’ve become a loop in my mind, a beautiful one—but a loop all the same. A fixation I couldn’t let go of. I dressed it up in fantasy and hope, in longing and illusion. But now I see the difference.

It is 100% an addiction and addictions can be broken. I’ve held onto you like a craving—seeking comfort in your name, relapsing into the what-ifs and could-have-beens. But I know now that I can live without it. And more than that—I must.

I’ve reduced you to fragments of a person and come up with this big idea that you are everything I need. The truth is, Carl, I didn’t know all of you. I fell in love with pieces. With ideas. With a story I told myself over and over again, until it sounded like fact. But love—real love—is whole. It sees the person fully. And I only ever saw the outline of you.

And that’s a lie. A beautiful one. A gentle one. But still a lie. And I have to stop feeding it.
I have everything I need. I always have. I am not missing a piece. I am not incomplete. You are not the answer to a question I never needed to ask.

You are a distraction and while you’re certainly not my only distraction, you are my favorite. You were soft comfort when the world got loud. You were a daydream I kept returning to. A name that made my heart beat a little too fast. But you’re not real—not the way I made you to be.

But you’re also the most time-consuming and soul-leeching of them all. You became a storm I willingly walked into. Again and again. And now, I am tired of drowning in the waves.
I don’t think I’m going to instantly stop thinking of you… But I am not going to give you space in my mind that belongs to me. I won’t keep building altars in my thoughts for someone who isn’t standing there.

…but I do know that I am going to be proactive in minimizing these thoughts. It starts now. With truth. With care. With compassion—for both of us.
I’m no longer going to allow myself to succumb to them. I am choosing clarity. I am choosing to let you go—kindly, quietly, fully.

I’m going to put more effort into myself and the relationships around me. The ones who’ve held me through my storms. The ones who never needed fantasy to love me.

Healthy relationships based on reality and the unconditional love of those who have seen me at my best, worst, and everything in between. That’s the kind of love I deserve. The kind I want to give. And maybe one day, if paths cross again— It’ll be as two people who’ve both healed. But not today. Today, I set you down with gratitude and grace.

April 22, 2025

I'd like to write you a happy letter, because I've realized most of what I've written lately has come from a place of ache, of longing dressed in shadows. But not tonight. Tonight, there’s a gentle quiet in my chest, and maybe it’s the wine or maybe it’s just a rare moment of courage, but I want to say the good things too. The soft things I’ve held in my mouth like prayers.

You're important to me. Not in the loud, public, obvious kind of way— but in the quiet way someone becomes part of your days without even trying. Like background music you didn’t know you loved until it stopped playing.

And I'm sure you see right through my facade. You always did. You saw the tremble beneath the sarcasm, the affection behind the indifference, the softness I tried to bury under jokes and distance. I don't mind. Really. Being seen by you doesn’t scare me the way it does with everyone else.

I hope your health is treating you well these days. It’s such a simple hope, isn’t it? But I mean it with every inch of sincerity I have. I hope you’re eating well. I hope you’re sleeping. I hope your body feels like a safe place to live in.

It was so nice seeing you, even if I only glanced at you for less than a second. Because that second felt like a full conversation. Like your presence is enough to anchor me even when we’re oceans apart.

I want to tell you so many good things about you but it's not my place. And yet here I am, aching with all the words I can’t say. I want to buy you gifts and send you candy anonymously, leave love letters in your desk, send you articles and songs and books I think you'd love— but I can’t. Not because I don’t want to. But because affection like that— unfiltered, uninvited, unexplainable— is hard to justify when you’re just “someone.”

So instead, I just pray for you. And maybe that’s the purest thing I can offer. I pray that if you're dealing with any challenges right now, you find relief. Because I know how heavy the world can be and how quietly people can drown.

I pray you slay whatever goals you've set for yourself this year. Because you’re a force, Even when you’re tired. Even when you doubt it. I pray you find the motivation to keep going and can hold the same energy at the end as you had at the beginning. You deserve to finish things feeling proud. You deserve to feel light again.
I pray you get the recognition you deserve— from your boss, your friends, or strangers who simply pass by and feel changed by your presence.

You're so smart and kind and loyal and... And I’d add a hundred more words if they could capture you. You're just a good person that deserves all good things. I mean that with everything I have.
I am praying for you, always. Because, when it can’t reach out, learns how to stay quietly beside someone in spirit.

April 26, 2025

Last night, in the sacred stillness between moonlight and morning, I had the most extraordinary dream— a montage stitched from threads of hope and longing, from whispered wishes I didn’t know had nestled so deeply into my heart.
It was as though the universe, in its gentle mercy, had given me a fleeting glimpse of a life painted with you in every hue. We were living a life so quietly magnificent, it almost made my heart ache with joy.

You were radiant, Carl— thriving in the career that made your soul light up. I remember your laughter, the kind that starts in your chest and fills the whole room, as we stood side by side, owning a little shop together, something warm and full of character, like you.
Then it shifted.
A new frame. Soft morning light slipping through the curtains, casting gentle gold on your sleeping face.

We were sleeping in, curled together like a secret the world would never know.
My fingertips traced the outline of your handsome features, and you, with a smile soft as candlelight, whispered how happy you were—how deeply content you were in the life we had built.

We made breakfast together, something simple, but sacred.
We watched TV, playfully bantering during games, laughing until tears ran down our cheeks. And oh—we danced, In the kitchen.
I jumped into your arms, wrapped around you, the scent of your neck pulling me closer, anchoring me in this dream I never wanted to leave. You were happy. We were happy.

It was imperfectly perfect, just like you.
And when I woke—my pillow was damp. A few quiet tears had slipped free,
Carl, I know now—with a clarity that feels like reverence— what my wish is in this life.

It’s a life with you. A life filled with shared silences and breathless laughter, with the mundane made magical by your presence. A life not of grandeur, but of deep belonging.
You, are my home. And if dreams are the whispers of our truest desires, then last night… my soul whispered your name.

April 30, 2025

Sometimes I catch myself wondering—how real are words like fate, coincidence, or destiny? They’ve always sounded like wishful thinking, haven’t they? Things people say when they want to believe in something more. I’ve never really been the kind of person who leans into magic or puts trust in the unseen—I’ve always asked for facts, for proof, for things I can hold in my hands. But ever since you walked into my life, everything has started to feel like a story I already know the ending to.

It’s strange.
It’s as if the world has rearranged itself around you. Like every stray lyric, every chance encounter, every still moment is some kind of sign, pointing quietly—but insistently—back to you. And I’ve tried to rationalize it, tried to label it as nostalgia, or unfinished feelings, or just bad timing. But it’s more than that. It feels like I’m living inside one of those slow-burn novels, you know the kind—the ones where the main character and their love interest meet once, change each other’s worlds, and then part ways for a while. Each goes on their own journey. They grow. They struggle. And somehow—somehow they cross paths again, years later, when the timing is finally right.

The right time. That phrase has been echoing in my mind lately. I don’t think we’ve reached that part of the story yet, Carl. But I do believe it’s still coming.

In the meantime, I’ve been doing the work. The hard, often lonely work of healing and rebuilding and relearning who I am. I’ve met people too—after you, of course. Kind people. They make me feel appreciated, seen in ways that are soft and safe. And yet, without even knowing it, they’ve come to know you. Not directly, no. But through me. Through the way I speak about you. You’ve been stitched into my conversations like a familiar melody—one I hum when I think no one’s listening.

I try not to talk about you. I really do. But not speaking your name feels like holding my breath for too long. You just slip into everything. Into the spaces between words. Into the pauses in my thoughts. It’s as if my heart is still trying to introduce you to the world.

I know this might sound dramatic, or even foolish. Maybe it is. But some truths just don’t fit into neat boxes or measured explanations. And the truth is, I could go on and on, even now. Even when I know you may never read this. But I think I’ve said enough. Or maybe I haven’t. Whatever this is—whatever it’s meant to be—I just wanted you to know...

I hope you’re having a good night.

And if, by some miracle, you find yourself thinking of me too—then maybe that’s a sign. Or maybe it’s nothing.

But either way...
You’re still my favorite part of the story.

♡

May 2, 2025

It’s yearning time again. That familiar, quiet ache curling under my ribs like it always does when I think of you.
I stare a little too long at every picture of you I find—letting the shape of your face carve itself into the soft clay of my memory. I memorize the curve of your jaw, the shadow beneath your cheekbone, the way your mouth folds slightly at the corners.

I want to touch you—not in the way most people might assume, but in the gentlest, most reverent way. I want to cradle your face in my hands like it’s something sacred. I want to trace your lips with the pad of my thumb—not for passion, but for presence. Just to remind myself that you’re real.

I want to look you in the eyes—but from impossibly close up. Count-your-eyelashes close. Feel-you-breathe-through-your-nose close. That kind of closeness that slows time, where everything feels suspended in a hush of intimacy.
I want to hold your hand. Fingers intertwined. Not long enough to sweat, but long enough to say: I’m here. I see you. I want this. Maybe we’d swing our hands a little, like kids on a sidewalk, giddy with the simplicity of touch.

I want to hug you—arms wrapped tight, like a home built in real time. I’d have to stand a little on my toes—just enough to rest my chin on your shoulder and bury myself in the stillness of you. I know how this sounds. Writing this makes me feel oddly robotic—awkward, like someone trying to explain a language they don’t yet know how to speak. Like I’m clumsily describing something sacred using broken phrases and trembling keys.

I can’t even imagine kissing you—not because I don’t want to, but because I’ve never kissed anyone before. There are no memories to call on, no images to replay. Just a soft, quiet ache where the imagination should be.
A longing without shape. A desire without details. But it’s real. It’s so, so real.

May 4, 2025

Dear You,

Tonight’s full moon is especially bright—a glowing reminder that no matter where you are in this wide, winding world, we still look up at the same sky. We might be miles apart, but I like to believe we share the same wishes. With every star I see, I whisper the same hope: to be one step closer to you.

I made a playlist for us—each song a thread that ties back to you, a soft collection of melodies that cradle your memory. I don’t know when I’ll get to share it with you, but when I do, I hope it feels like home. There are some days where you linger quietly in the back of my mind—soft, subtle, gentle. And then there are nights when sleep escapes me completely, and only the thought of you curled beside me brings peace. The version of you I hold in my heart is my lullaby, my comfort.

Wherever you are, I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re healthy. I hope life is kind to you. And if it isn’t, then I hope my love finds its way to you somehow—in a sunrise, in a song, in a moment of unexpected stillness. I believe in my heart that our paths are always bending toward one another, even when we can't yet see the crossing point.

When life feels heavy, when the weight of it becomes too much, I hold tightly to that golden thread of hope—the one that says: you and I will find each other again.

I am so deeply, immeasurably, and endlessly in love with you. Sometimes I wonder if you can feel it—if the pull of my heart reaches you, drifting gently through the cosmos. If only you knew just how much you mean to me. I think you'd smile that soft smile I love so much. I think you'd tell me to breathe, to rest, to dream.

Until that day comes, I promise to keep growing—for me, for you, for us. I’ll keep building the life I hope to share with you, brick by brick, moment by moment. And I hope you’re doing the same, wherever your feet may be.

I can’t wait to feel your arms around me—to press our foreheads together in silence and share that kiss we’ve been waiting for. I imagine it often. Not just the kiss, but the warmth. The relief. The quiet joy of finally arriving.

Until that day, I believe in you. I’ll wait as long as it takes.

May 6, 2025

Honestly, I think I knew it from the very first moment I saw you. Something about you tugged at me—quietly, insistently—like gravity disguised as curiosity.

Getting the courage to talk to you, to ask for your contact... that was the bravest thing I’ve ever done. I still replay the moment in my head sometimes, wondering how I managed to hold my composure when everything inside me was trembling. But I can’t bring myself to ask you to be mine. Not because I don’t want to—God, I do—but because I’m terrified of what your answer might be.

I don’t know how you feel about me. And that not-knowing gnaws at me in the quiet hours. Still, I am taken with you—completely. Your eyes. Your smile. Your mind. Just... everything. You don’t even try, and yet you’ve managed to undo me.

When you don’t reply, it crushes me—not because I’m angry, but because I’m scared.
Scared that maybe you’re talking to someone else. That someone else sees what I see. That they might get to keep what I only dream of holding.
Let’s be honest: who wouldn’t want you? You’re golden in all the ways that matter.

Maybe one day, I’ll be brave enough. Brave enough to tell you exactly how I feel—to put it all on the line, my heart trembling in my hands. Maybe you’ll hold it gently. Maybe you won’t. But I’ll try.

Until then... in another life, dummy.
Maybe the version of me in that life gets to walk beside you.

♡

May 8, 2025

There are people we meet who change the texture of our lives, and then there are people who change the very architecture of our being. You are both. You are kind—and honest. Not in a way that demands praise, but in a way that moves quietly through the world, leaving integrity behind in your wake. You live by a moral compass that most have long abandoned, and it guides not just your actions—but the hearts of those who love you.

You are charming—a masterful conversationalist, able to turn awkward silences into soft laughter. You make people feel seen. Heard. Known. And then there’s your glorious, unapologetic nerdiness, a part of you I will always adore.
You are forgiving, affectionate—wise and wildly intelligent. Quick-witted, yes, but also thoughtful. Tender. Curious. You are a physician in title, but a healer in spirit. And funny, in the way that matters: unexpected, dry, self-aware. But also anxious—the kind of anxious that comes from carrying more of the world than is fair for one person to hold.

Your self-awareness? That will always astound me. You see yourself clearly, flaws and all, and still choose to be better. You are one of my most treasured friends. And it humbles me to know you.

Of course, you're not perfect—none of us are. You can be mildly selfish, quick-tempered, a little whiny, and if we’re really being honest—yes, a bit of an asshole. But you own it, and that’s more than I can say for most. Yet still—the peace I feel in your orbit, even when you’re not near, is unlike anything I’ve known.

I thought distance would dilute what we had. That it would weaken the thread between us. But somehow, I feel you closer than ever. Maybe you’ll never read this. Maybe it’ll just float here—lost in the quiet corners of the universe. But even so, I needed to say it:

Thank you. For crossing paths with me. For existing at the same time as me.

I am better because you exist.
And I carry that with me always.

May 10, 2025